


not what you think we are

by meggiewrites



Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Boys In Love, Everyone Is Gay, German National Team, Kevin Isn't, Loris Is Nominated, M/M, Or At Least The Goalkeepers Are, Relationship Reveal, Sorry Kevin, Training Camp
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-16
Updated: 2018-05-16
Packaged: 2019-05-07 20:44:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14679156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meggiewrites/pseuds/meggiewrites
Summary: Meet Germany's finest goalkeepers: tall, blond, handsome, and most definitely queer.





	not what you think we are

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sevdepayne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sevdepayne/gifts).



> Working title: The Queer Quartet
> 
> Of course, this is for Sevde, who not only put the idea of gay!Loris in my head but also helped this fic coming to life. This is now officially my favourite footballer clique, especially cause all in all they're too gay to function (To be fair, I headcanon Bernd as bi and Marc as pan, but still)
> 
> Enjoy!

Training camp feels like walking a tightrope.

Loris knows he should be elated, but after the short, comfortable familiarity of sitting next to Emre in the bus, everything feels new, different and more strained than exciting. He knows that his place in this squad is unsteady at best. When he casts a short glance over at where Manuel Neuer is standing with his Bayern teammates, laughing and smiling, his stomach churns a bit. How is he expected to hold his own when his direct competition is a walking legend and the only thing holding him back a foot that regularly refuses to cooperate.

He snuck away to make a call that was supposed to calm his fluttering nerves down, but instead, so far, it has only wound him up tighter, making him realize that even with Emre there, as well as some others he’s met in the youth teams, he’s on his own. That he’ll have to fight for this. Sometimes he wonders if he even _should_ fight for this, wondering if the glory is worth giving up parts of his privacy for international recognition.

He hears his other half chuckle on the other end of the phone, as if he knows exactly how anxious Loris feels. Loris sighs as he sees Köpke walk up to the group, waving the other goalkeepers to follow him before craning his head. Even before they lock eyes, Loris knows it’s him he’s looking for.

(“Call me Andi,” he said when they’d first shaken hands the day before, but in his head, Loris is still struggling with it.)

Quickly, Loris focuses back on his phone call. “Okay babe, I have to go now, I'll call you later. Love you." He doesn’t wait for a reply and his stomach is still doing somersaults as jogs up to the others, offering them a tight smile, at the same time feeling his phone in his pocket vibrating against his leg. He doesn’t have to check to see what is it for, cause it’s probably his boyfriend letting him know that he loves him back.

His start with the goalkeeper squad has been rocky so far. He knew Bernd and Marc from the youth teams, and has always gotten along with them just fine, even if the one time they were all called up together, Bernd and Marc were so taken up with each other, exchanging glares and sometimes even spitting thinly-veiled insults at each other, that they barely paid Loris any attention.

This time around, Marc was still as friendly and welcoming as Loris remembers him, but when they shook hands, Bernd shot him a displeased look. His own greeting had been curt, to which Marc added a short “don’t mind him, he’s just cranky”, and since then, Bernd’s mostly ignored him, save for the occasional glares he throws at his and Marc’s general direction whenever they interact with each other.

Manuel on the other hand has been a whole different story. No one expected for Löw to call up four goalkeepers, but with the captain’s critical health, it was obvious that he wanted to give his star goalie another chance to recover in time.

To Loris, he is nothing short of a role model, as probably to all German goalkeepers his age, so meeting him was an experience and a half. At first, it felt strange, aligning this slightly awkward man who seemed torn between being almost uncomfortable with meeting new people and someone who knew it was his _job_ to make new people feel welcome with the incredibly talented, awe-inspiring and confident player that he was on the pitch.

His smile was crooked but genuine, his grip strong, as if he didn’t care that instead of heaving a secure spot in the team, he’d have to compete against someone eight years younger than him.

Loris on the other hand was having quite the time trying to stay cool and not freak out about the fact that he was shaking hands with his idol.

Anyway, by now, being confronted with Manuel Neuer seems a lot less intimidating than it did at the beginning, so he doesn’t exactly mind when Andi assigns them to train together. In fact, he’s excited for it.

Still, it’s curious that he did so because he implied that if they got to chose, Marc and Bernd would have chosen to work together anyway, since that decidedly doesn’t sound like the Marc and Bernd Loris knows. In fact, back then, they did everything they could to avoid each other.

But now, they smile at each other a surprising lot – even Bernd, who has been acting like a human grumpy cat all morning – and how they both quickly look away when they accidentally bump into each other before bursting into impromptu laughter.

“Boys,” Andi scolds, even if his smirk belies his disapproving tone, shooing them over to their goal.

During training, Loris has already learned, Manuel is even more taciturn than usual, his eyebrows drawn together in concentration, so it’s only when they are allowed to take their first break that he turns to Loris.

“So um, are you fitting in?”

Loris tilts his head, surprised for a second before he remembers that he’s standing in front of his captain, direct competition or not. He shrugs.

“It’s fine. Demanding. A lot more tense than I expected, to be honest. I probably should be over the moon that I was called up, but …”

Manuel’s grin is almost a bit apologetic, “but now I’m here too. Gotcha.”

“Sorry.”

Manuel waves him off. “It’s not like it’s your fault. You deserve this chance just as much as I do, if not more, considering that you managed to reach the Champions League final and all. Congrats on that, by the way.”

Loris huffs. “We didn’t win.”

“Real is a tough pill for us all,” Manuel says, casting a sad glance at his foot. It looks fine this way, firmly secured in a boot, but knowing how the injury started in the first place, recalling his own last game against them must be an unpleasant memory, too.

Before Loris can of something not-depressing to say to that, he is distracted by Bernd. He is giggling, notably at something Marc said, the latter standing next to him with a content grin as the taller blond supports himself on his shoulder.

He casts Manuel a glance. The captain doesn’t seem all that surprised by their behaviour and just shoots them an amused look.

“When did they stop hating each other?”

Manuel looks at him as if he’s asked why the sky was blue before turning around, walking back towards the goal.

Somehow, for the rest of the unit Loris can’t stop observing his two fellow keepers.

They look comfortable together, Loris realizes as he sees Bernd leaning into Marc’s touch after he helped him up, their smiles soft, fond. It’s such a stark difference to the image they presented when he met them for the first time that the realization almost knocks him off his feet. Marc and Bernd like each other. Judging from how Bernd’s hand lingers at Marc’s waist, maybe even _like_ like each other.

That thought is cemented once they’re finished and Andi sends the two of them over to grab the spare nets of balls that they stored in one of the sheds. They take their time to make their way back to them, giggling, the ten meters from the shed spent with bumping into each other, giggling as they meet each other’s eyes before looking away again. As Loris observes the blush on Marc’s cheeks and sees Bernd lock their pinkies together, any doubts that he might have had left vanish into thin air.

Andi shoots them an amused glance. “C'mon you two, hurry up. You can make heart eyes at each other in your free time.” Marc manages to look slightly guilty as he dumps his net with balls on the floor, but Bernd only grins, his mood so visibly better than it was that morning.

“Alright,” Andi claps his hands together. “Good work boys, I guess I can let you go a few minutes early! Enjoy your free evening. Not too much though - if any of you cannot walk tomorrow I'm not explaining this to Jogi." He jokingly glares at them, though his eyes linger on Manuel the longest.

Loris can feel his eyebrows rise up to his hairline as Bernd lets out a short, barking laugh, and Marc stifles a grin as Manuel’s cheeks grow suspiciously pink under Andi’s scrutiny. He vows to investigate that, but when he spots Emre lounging in one of the sofas in the entrance, after he’s come back down from his room, there is a more pressing matter on his mind.

“Why didn’t you tell me that Bernd and Marc were a thing?” Loris’ voice is louder than he intended, and a lot more reproachful. “Asshole,” he adds, a bit softer.

Emre startles, looking slightly puzzled by this sudden affront. For a moment, he only stares at Loris with wide eyes. Then, he chuckles. “Dude, I told you a million times before that you and the other goalies are the exact same people just with different hairdos; what did you think I meant by that?”

Loris throws his hands in the air. “I don’t know? Maybe that we’re all tall, blond and handsome?!”

Now, Emre only shakes his head fondly. “Leave it to you to be that oblivious. It’s really not like Marc and Bernd are subtle at all.”

When Loris looks over to where the two of them are leaning against a wall next to each other, their shoulders touching, exchanging soft glances whenever their hands brush against each other while all of their teammates flock around the room, he realizes that his friend might have a point.

“But _Neuer_ surely isn’t…?” he says, his sentence trailing off incredulously as he realizes the full extent of what Emre implied, recalling Andi’s questionable comment.

“Yep he is,” Emre replies with a smug grin, pointing over Loris’ shoulder. Loris turns around just in time to see Manuel walk up to Müller of all people and lets out a tiny gasp as the lanky forward wraps his skinny arms all around the tall blond’s frame and Manuel almost melts into his touch, a blissful smile on his lips as he buries his nose in Müller’s messy curls.

“Well fuck me.”

Emre looks stunned for a moment, something unrecognizable flaring up in his eyes, but then he snorts. “I think I’ll leave that to your boyfriend, thanks.”

Loris slaps him over the head.

It's a lot to process, but surely, it leaves him seeing his teammates in a new light.

The next day, suddenly, Bernd’s weird behaviour when anyone gets too close to Marc makes a whole lot of sense (even if he should probably work on his jealousy issues), how they always stick together does too; and it suddenly, the way Neuer stares at the field players from afar looks less like a secret wish to be a forward and more like pining after his boyfriend.

But well, it’s not like any of them confirmed any of this, and he isn’t sure how much he can rely on Emre’s info, but it’s not like he can ask them, right?

Manuel coughs when he notices him staring at the two other blonds. “You don’t mind, do you?” He sounds worried. “Them,” he adds with a general wave in Bernd and Marc’s direction, but there’s a cold spark in his eyes that speaks of the fact that it’s not only his teammates he’s worried for.

Loris is quick to shake his head, weirdly relieved in a way, “no, not at all.” He stares at his boots, shuffling his feet awkwardly. “Would be kinda hypocritical if I did.”

Manuel quirks a surprised eyebrow. “You, too?” He smacks his lips, staring into thin air before turning back to Loris with a disbelieving chuckle. “God, what a group we are. Andi’s gonna have a right laugh when he realizes that you’re just like the rest of us.”

“He’s okay with it?”

Manuel rolls his eyes, but there’s a grin teasing at his lips. “What with his quips yesterday one would think you’d already know that he is. I um. I would advise being more careful around Jogi, Olli and Co., though.”

There’s a tenseness in his voice that implies that Loris shouldn’t ask, but he carefully files the info away for later.

It’s amazing though, how at ease the two couples seem when there’s no one of the coaching staff around. The goalkeepers are the first in the meeting room, and Marc and Bernd immediately collapse on two chairs next to each other, Bernd placing his hand on Marc’s thigh with a happy sigh as they rest against each other.

When the field players join them, almost no one pays them any attention. Petersen shoots them a curious look but apparently deems them not interesting enough as he pulls out his phone shortly after. Müller walks by them with a grin before unceremoniously plopping down next to Manuel, placing his chin on the blond’s shoulder. Quickly, he glances around before leaning forward to place a peck on his stubbly cheek.

When he catches Loris’ eyes, he only winks at him.

They all straighten up as soon as the door opens again though, quickly separating from each other. Every football coach is used to a certain degree of physical affection between his players, but there seems to be an unspoken agreement that there are things that are okay to do around your teammates, but not when the staff is around – since as soon as they leave again, they fall back into each other.

It’s all very sweet, but it makes Loris feel kinda lonely. He only wanted to make the call the next morning, promising himself that he wouldn’t be too clingy, but he finds himself picking up his phone as soon as he returns to his room.

He thumbs over the contact pic as he it rings. It’s one of the two of them together, side by side, sitting on a green lawn (or was it a football pitch? Loris didn’t even remember), fondly looking into each other’s eyes. God, how could you miss someone this much?

“They’re all gay,” is what he blurts out as soon as his boyfriend picks up. “The other goalkeepers, I mean. Bernd, Marc …. even Neuer!” He shakes his head incredulously. “You haven’t seen everything until you’ve seen your idol cuddle up to his partner like a giant needy kitten. And Marc and Bernd are all over each other as well!”

He hears the familiar, quiet laugh on the other side of the call.

Loris pouts. “They all have their boyfriends here and I miss you a lot. And all you do is laugh at me." He pauses. "I just. I want to be home with you.”

Another chuckle. “I miss you too, love. And you will be home with me soon. But how about you try to win that World Cup first, yeah?”

 

**Author's Note:**

>   * Again a big fat **_I am so sorry_** to Kevin – but you're just too brunette and straight to fit into this squad. Same goes for Ralle, Sven, Timo and so on btw ....
>   * I've never written Loris before so I hope his voice is okay!
>   * His boyfriend can pretty much be whoever you want him to be. I didn't really have anyone particular in mind
>   * (Also I want to see them go on triple dates now)
>   * I pretty much just assumed Real is going to win the UCL. Of course I can't be sure, but I would actually bet on it, no matter how much I want Liverpool to win lol
>   * Lil' illustration [here](http://manuelmueller.tumblr.com/post/173886975580/)
>   * Title from Mika's _We Are Golden_
>   * I write FICTION about real people. None of this is intended to harm them or their reputation in any way
> 

> 
> Please leave kudos and maybe a comment if you liked it! | [tumblr](http://manuelmueller.tumblr.com/) | [Sevde's tumblr](http://berndlenhoe.tumblr.com/)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [What's in a name?](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14711682) by [Khalehla](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Khalehla/pseuds/Khalehla)




End file.
